


Dancing Fool

by MizJoely



Series: SherlollyPrompts [31]
Category: Sherlock (TV)
Genre: Dance Instructor AU, F/M, Sherlolly - Freeform
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-02-04
Updated: 2018-02-04
Packaged: 2019-03-13 09:20:24
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,373
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13567545
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/MizJoely/pseuds/MizJoely
Summary: 1930s London. Sherlock Holmes is taking dancing lessons from Miss Molly Hooper, but is a hopeless student...or is he?





	Dancing Fool

**Author's Note:**

> This is based on an awesome dance scene from the Fred Astaire & Ginger Rogers movie Swing Time. Many thanks to writingwife83 for reading it over for me!

"Mr. Holmes, I'm afraid there's no way I can teach you anything! You're quite helpless!"

"No, wait, let me…" Sherlock began to scramble back to his feet as Miss Hooper disentangled herself from him and made as if to storm off.

She was stopped by the entrance of Sebastian Wilkes, the Dance Master and manager of the studio where Sherlock had been taking dance lessons for the past several weeks.

"Miss Hooper! Is that how you speak to our clients?" he demanded angrily. "Telling them you can't teach them anything? How dare you! You're fired!"

"No, wait!" Sherlock tried again, only to be interrupted this time by the unexpected appearance of John Watson as Molly stormed out of the room, Wilkes hard on her heels, still berating her.

"Sherlock, what the devil is going on? Lestrade said you found the culprits weeks ago, that the case is solved! Why are you still coming here?" John demanded, stepping aggressively in front of his friend and former flatmate as he tried to follow after the other two.

"Not now, John, I have to fix this," Sherlock said, shoving past him and hurrying out of the room.

He caught up with them in at reception, where Wilkes (surprise, surprise) was now berating Mrs. Hudson for telling off a middle-aged, overweight would-be Astaire who'd had the audacity to steal her herbal tea and drink it right in front of her. "What is with you women today?" Wilkes was blathering. "First I had to fire Miss Hooper, now you…"

Mrs. Hudson stood up and gave him a cold stare. "You fired Molly, you reptile?! Why?"

Sherlock reached the desk just as Wilkes was about to deliver a new tirade. Nope, time to end this. "As I was just trying to tell old Sebastian here," he said in his poshest, snottiest voice, "Miss Hooper was making a joke, at which I was about to laugh when he so rudely interrupted us."

Molly, carrying her coat and other belongings, had just reached the entranceway when he spoke, and stopped short, brown eyes wide with astonishment. Not giving anyone time to react further, Sherlock grasped Wilkes by the arm, doing the same to Molly and turning them both smartly back toward the main ballroom, where John still waited in utter bafflement. "Just a joke, and if you'll allow me to demonstrate...John, please put the record on, will you? Miss Hooper and I need to demonstrate to Mr. Wilkes just how excellent a dance instructor she really is."

With those words and an impatient nod for John to get on with it, Sherlock released his two bewildered captives, took precisely four steps back from Molly, and performed a perfect pirouette - a move she'd seen him utterly mangle each time he tried it previously. While Wilkes made an approving murmur, she gaped from him to Sherlock and back again.

Then John finally put the music on, the waltz she'd been trying to teach her hapless student for the past week; Sherlock assumed the correct stance, feet and hands properly placed, and beckoned for her to join him on the floor.

With another stunned look at Wilkes, Molly slowly walked toward her erstwhile student, allowing him to clasp her right hand in his and resting her left on his other arm. As the music swelled, Sherlock proceeded to lead her flawlessly around the ballroom floor, even adding a few twirls and spins she would never have believed him capable of mastering.

She felt as if she were floating, so light was he on his feet, not once treading on hers or clumsily entangling their limbs. His hands and arms remained in the correct form, his fingers clasping hers warmly, his smile seemingly designed only for her. Her own lips curled up in a smile as the music ended and they came to a stop.

It was so different, so stunningly, beautifully different to how clumsy he'd been in their private dance sessions, that it took her a moment before she could think again. And when she did...clearly he understood exactly how furious she was, because before she could do more than open her mouth, he clapped his hands together and turned to Wilkes. "So," he said briskly, "as you can see, Miss Hooper was not demotivating me to attend class, she was simply joking. Because as you can also see, she is a superior instructor. Far better than any of the other hacks you employ."

"Yes, well...I mean yes, of course, joking, got it," Wilkes stammered out. Giving a half-bow he said to Molly, "I apologize for misunderstanding the situation, Miss Hooper. Obviously you're not fired."

"Nor is Mrs. Hudson, correct?" Sherlock added smoothly. "After all, you wouldn't want to lose an employee as valuable as she just because of your inept misreading of the situation with Miss Hooper."

"Valuable?" Wilkes spluttered. "That old.."

"That _older woman_ who calms the nerves of the married ladies whose husbands come here for lessons," Sherlock finished for him with a stern look. "That _older woman_ who makes them feel as if there is a chaperone on duty, who would never put up with any...shenanigans...between married men and some of the more, shall we say, morally flexible dance instructors."

Sherlock quirked an eyebrow as he said that, and Wilkes went quite red in the face as Molly did her best to keep her smile off her lips. His affair with their most highly sought-after instructress, Miss Adler, was a poorly kept secret amongst the rest of the staff. As for Mrs. Hudson acting as a chaperone...well, if one was chaperoning a bachelor party complete with exotic dancers, she might be the woman for the job - but only if she was allowed to join in on the fun!

Putting her thoughts aside, Molly assumed a stern expression as Sherlock offered her his arm. "May I have a word in private, Miss Hooper?" he asked.

She nodded, allowed him to escort her off the floor and down the hall, then turned to face him, hands on hips. "Right. What's going on here, exactly, Mr. Holmes? You're no dancing novice!"

"No, nor am I a haberdasher," he replied, running a hand along the edge of his slicked-back hair. The motion caused an unexpected curl to bounce loose. "I am, in fact, a consulting detective who was dispatched here to discover who exactly was using this dance studio for the purpose of exchanging illicit pharmaceuticals for cash. The Met suspected it was one of the dancers - you in particular came under suspicion due to your medical studies - but I quickly realized it was two of your regular clients, both of whom have since been arrested."

"Mr. Magnussen and Mr. Smith," Molly said, after thinking it over - and once her heart had slowed back down to normal after hearing that she'd been a suspect! "They stopped coming last week - but if you made your arrests, then why have you still been pretending to be a student?"

He stepped closer, meeting her gaze with an intensity she'd never seen from him before. Her throat was quite dry when he said lowly, "Isn't it obvious, Miss Hooper?"

"N-no," she managed, heart once again pounding madly in her chest. "I'm afraid you'll have to say it, Mr. Holmes." Some devil prompted her to add, "Say it like you mean it."

"I stayed because of you, Molly Hooper. I found that I quite enjoy your company, and I was too much of a coward to confess that to you, especially after I'd been lying to you for weeks about my reasons for coming here. Can you forgive me?"

"I, I think that might be arranged," Molly whispered, gazing up at him with a soft smile. He wanted to spend time with her, just as she'd enjoyed spending time with him. Surely it was too good to be true - !

But no. Matching her smile with one of his own, he reached out slowly, placed his hand on her waist, and pulled her closer. Sliding one hand at the back of her neck, he murmured, "You, Molly Hooper. It's always been you," before lowering his head and claiming her lips with his own.


End file.
